Hermione Meets Marvel: Deadpool Edition
by mariteri
Summary: Hermione Granger meets the merc with the mouth. Needless to say the comedy is on the dark side, but hey! There's chimichangas! Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Hi! I love a good comedy. Hopefully this is a good one. Let me know. Enjoy.**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter One**

Hermione slipped out of the rental car, looking at the Sunset Apartments. The real estate agent hadn't been exaggerating. The place really was a piss pot. She slipped into the building and went over to the apartment and was letting herself in when she felt the barrel of a gun being pressed to her temple.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

"I'm letting this apartment," she told him, lifting her rental agreement to show it to the man in what she could barely see was a red and black mask. "Paid rent for a month."

"Really? Why should I care?" he growled.

"I have food," she informed him, thinking back to what the real estate agent told her about who would be her crazy neighbor and how it would be a good thing to have as many chimichangas as humanly possible on hand when she met him.

"What kind of food?" he muttered.

"Mexican," she told him. "Chimichangas."

He put the gun down, telling her, "Why didn't you say so? You do realize that if you share with me, you'll be my bestest friend ever."

"Until you eat them all, I suppose?"

"Of course," he murmured. "What use would you be to me if you didn't have any chimichangas?"

Turning to face him, her brown eyes full of humor. Lifting a bag, she handed it over to him. "For you. You let me know when you run out."

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks," he murmured, pulling out a chimichanga and began to eat it. He let out a hum of delight and was about to say something when he noticed that she was no longer in front of him and was in the apartment she had been unlocking when he had confronted her.

…

It had taken three hours to clean up and set up the apartment to Hermione's high standards. She was in the middle of setting up her office area when there was pounding on her door. She went over and looked through the peek hole and saw a finger covering the peep.

"Who is it?!" she sang out.

"It's your mother!" came a man singing out in a falsetto.

"She's dead! Try again!"

"Damn," came from the other side of the door. "It's me, sweet cheeks!"

She opened the door. "I've never met a person that had an adjective or pronoun as a name before." She looked over at his masked face and outfit. "Never met a person that dressed like you either."

"I'm one of a kind!" he told her. "I wanted to ask you where you got that bag you gave me."

"Why?" she asked him.

"Because it kept filling up with the best chimichangas ever! And then when I was tired of them—weird I know, but it happens sometimes. I thought, 'Jeeze, I could use something different'. Again, I know it's weird, but again it happens. But really the last time that happened, I ended up making seventeen dozen pancakes. Talk about a pancake-fest! Anyway, I thought as much and I was thinking that goat tacos would be like awesome."

"And?" she asked.

"And don't you know, goat tacos popped into the bag!"

"Were they good?"

"Excellent!"

"But?" she asked him, somehow knowing what was coming next.

"I burned it, as it was clearly witchcraft," he told her.

"But that doesn't explain why you're here now."

His head lowered slightly. "I want more chimichangas!"

"I don't have another bag," she told him. "But I am going to be attending some business and I'll fetch you another one, but only if you promise not to burn it for like a day. They aren't easy to come by."

"I don't promise anything," he told her. "Other than to love and honor chimichangas for the rest of my days."

"You made marriage vows to…" she began to ask, but stopped and said, "I'm not going there." She went over to the small kitchen, pulling out one of the bags of chimichangas she had been saving in case Ronald had decided to come visit.

She handed him the bag. "That won't refill itself. It's just a normal bag filled with like twelve chimichangas." She worried her lower lip. "I don't know if I made them when I was angry or not."

"How can you tell?" he asked her.

"If there's poison in them," she told him. "That's a sure sign. That or glass or even nails."

He took a bite and waited. Smiling he announced, "Nope! Not a thing other than chicken and seasonings."

"Good," she answered. "Let me tell you, I have never been that good of a cook. But I'm even worse when I cook angry."

"Good to know, sweet cheeks," he murmured, his mouth full.

"That's not my name," she told him. "It's Hermione Granger."

"I'm Deadpool."

"Did your parents name you that?"

"No. Why?"

"It's an unusual name is all," she murmured, as she watched him as he kept eating. "But if it works for you, who am I to comment?"

"Thanks for the grub, sweet cheeks," he told her as he went out of the apartment. "Let me know if you get that bag."

"Of course," she told him and was about to close the door behind him when he stopped, leaning towards her.

"So do tell, are you a witch?"

"You really think I'm going to answer one way or the other?"

"By not answering, it tells me that you are."

"Or it could be that I'm not telling you due to the fact that being a witch could be enough of a buffer for a time to keep you at bay, as you might see a non-magical as nothing to be fearful of."

"Even if you did have witchcraft on your side, I still wouldn't have any fear of you."

"As you're as mad as a hatter, I could easily see as much," she murmured. "Tell you what, how about an easy deal between us?"

"What kind of deal?"

"If you don't try to kill me, I won't try to kill you."

He seemed to think that over. "You're not a killer."

"Not on purpose, I'm not."

"You cooked angry, didn't you?"

"Very much so," she told him, looking more than a little embarrassed over what had happened. "Cormac never knew what hit him."

"What hit him?"

"My elbow to his throat." She pursed her lips, as color flooded her cheeks and muttered, "I think I would have just walked away, but he grabbed my ass while I was plating the food and with his wife right there in the next room!" Sniffling she added, "I didn't mean to hit him that hard. But I was startled and frankly it hurt when he pinched my ass like he did. Between me and his wife, we tried to save him, but there was nothing we could have done to save him." She looked to Deadpool. "And if that wasn't bad enough, I ended up in the hospital later when I accidently poisoned myself with what I had made earlier."

"Aw, sweet cheeks, you got yourself a deal," he said. "Just remember if you try to kill me on purpose, I'm hunting you down."

"Never on purpose," she told him. "I promise."

"Excellent!" And he went on his way, eating happily as he went.

**TBC…**

**So? What do you think? I know it's not my usual cup of tea, but I just wanted to try something new. And frankly, this idea had me giggling. Please review and have an excellent day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are at the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**…**

**Chapter Two**

Hermione was in the middle of cooking breakfast when Deadpool walked into her apartment with a man dressed in yellow and black and managed to look irritated without effort.

"Please tell me you have enough to share?!" Deadpool pleaded.

"Certainly," she answered. "Who's your buddy?"

"The name's Wolverine, lady," he said to her.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance. I'm Hermione," she murmured. "Just to let you know, Deadpool, I'm not cooking mad."

"Awesome!" he cheered as soon as she slipped a large plate of scrambled eggs and three chimichangas in front of him.

He sniffed, looking back over to her. "I love you. I honestly love you."

"He don't mean that," came from the short muscular man.

"Between the man's madness and his overt sarcasm, I got that," Hermione answered, handing him a plate of scrambled eggs. "Sorry. All the chimichangas are his."

"It's meant to be!" Deadpool declared. "She's saving all her chimichangas for me."

"You're insane," she told him.

"I know," he murmured. "It's a part of my charm."

Just then two men came strolling into the apartment. Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat of irritation at the sight of Ron Weasley there with Harry, who was already trying to placate her.

"Hermione, just hear him out," he told her.

"Hear him out? Are you siding with him, Harry? He cheated on me!" She held her hands up. "Enough is enough. Get out of my flat, both of you!"

"It's like watching a soap opera," Deadpool breathed. "I hope she drop kicks him to the curb! Cheaters should get that and more."

"And what are you doing here with two strange men in your apartment!" Ron demanded.

"Seeing as we all have breakfast in front of us, I will take the wild guess of eating breakfast," she said dryly. "But seeing as we broke up, I don't comprehend where it's any of your business."

"You're living in squalor!" Harry snapped. "You don't have to live this way!"

Hermione looked around the newly renovated and modern looking flat. "You have a very bad definition of the word if this is it."

"She's got a point there," murmured Deadpool. "Now my apartment. That's squalor!"

"Judging from the smell coming from it, your apartment is a piss pot," Hermione stated. "Sorry."

"Got ya there, Deadpool," Logan said, looking over at the two men.

"It's a bad neighborhood!" Harry told her. "Your neighbors…"

"Are easily insulted so I'd keep it to yourself," she told him. "I'd hate to think I helped to get you both through a war only to have you both killed because you couldn't be civil."

"I won't kill ya," Wolverine told them. "But I wouldn't put it past him." He pointed his thumb to Deadpool. "He's as crazy as all get out and he'd kill ya rather than look at ya."

Harry and Ron swallowed thickly, as they looked over to Deadpool who was eating his chimichangas. How he managed to do so through a mask was a mystery to them all.

The two ended up leaving, but not before Ron nearly lost his hand when he tried to take one of the chimichangas. The katana stopped just short of his wrist, making him freeze. What terrified the two all the more was the fact that the man doing the threatening hadn't even stopped eating to do as much as he did.

Hermione showed them out, told them both that she would see them in a month, and promptly shut the door right in their faces. She went over to Deadpool, kissing his masked cheek.

"Thank you, you big crazy man," she murmured.

"You're welcome, sweet cheeks," he replied. "But I didn't do that for you."

"I know, but it was still nice," she replied, looking over to Wolverine. "Finished already? Can I get you something else?"

"Beer, if ya have it."

"I have some microbrews," she told him. "Can't stand the swill the American's drink."

"Let me try one," he murmured.

Hermione went over and pulled one out, handing it over to him. "Sorry to say that I lost my bottle opener in the move."

"No problem," Wolverine told her and used one of his claws to open it.

"Wow," she breathed. "That was an impressive bottle opener." But then she frowned. "But didn't that hurt?"

"A bit, but I'm used to it," Wolverine told her. "So are you a mutant or what?"

"Or what," she told him. "I'm a witch."

"How come you told him and not me?" Deadpool asked her.

"You'd told me that you burned the bag I had given you, because you suspected witchcraft. You loved that bag, Deadpool. And still you burned it."

"Point made," Deadpool sighed, wiping his face clean. "Thanks for the grub, sweet cheeks."

"Yeah, thanks for the grub and the brew." Wolverine indicated the bottle and added, "This is good stuff."

"Do you think a regular beer drinker would like that?"

"I don't see why not," he told her.

"Thanks for the input," she murmured, as they were walking out the door. "Nice meeting you, Wolverine."

"You too, Hermione," he said, as he was walking towards the door. "If ya need a job, we can always use the help at the school." He handed her a business card. "We need ourselves a librarian, as the last one ran screaming when one of the students accidently set her hair on fire."

"Whatever happened to 'Stop! Drop! And roll!' I ask you?" Hermione murmured mostly to herself.

That had Deadpool snickering, as Wolverine stepped out into the hallway. Deadpool stopped next to her in the doorway.

"Thanks for the food," he said. "And if you ever need to get rid of all those people watching you, let me know…"

"All those…" Frowning she asked, "Who?"

He turned her and pointed, "Them."

"Oh! Not to worry," she said. "We aren't supposed to know that they're there. It's all of that fourth wall business."

He looked over to them, studying them all. "Why are some of them taking notes?"

"I think those are the fanfiction readers," she said. "And they aren't taking notes." She looked at Deadpool. "They're writing reviews." She shrugged. "But you never know. Some of those people into fanfiction are odd ducks."

"And all the ones in masks?" He pointed to the people in the dark of what appeared to be an audience area. "What about them?"

"They must be what are referred to as 'Trolls'," she told him. "Fanfiction readers looking for something to complain about, insult, or criticize to the point of being offensive. It's what is referred to as being a 'flamer'. The Trolls are nothing but a bunch of cowards, who leave no way for the author to start a dialogue with them. Not that they would ever know what to do with that prospect, as most of them are illiterate punks with nothing better to do with their time than to feel better by making others feel horrid."

Deadpool looked over to her and just stared at her.

"Yeah, that was the writer using me," she told him. "I felt like a puppet. I would complain, but this author isn't as bad as some others can be. At least she doesn't make the stories she writes me in into epic journeys or something else of that sort. All she wants to do is write an entertaining read. If the readers want a message or a life lesson, the readers can pick up a Bible."

"Was that the writer again?"

Hermione's head lowered. "I feel so used."

**TBC…**

**…**

**And that's another chapter finished. Thanks for reading and have yourselves a calm and collected day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Howdy! Hope that everyone is doing well. Thanks for taking the time to read this. It's a bit of an experiment for me. Let me know how I'm doing. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Three**

Feeling sore and just crappy all around, Hermione made her way to her apartment. Gone for a week, she had been busy hunting death eaters for the Department of Mysteries. Slipping into her apartment, she went over to her bedroom and was about to take a shower when she took note of the man lump in her bed. At the sight of the red and black mask, she knew right away who it was.

"Deadpool, why are you in my bed?"

"It's nicer than mine," he answered sleepily.

His logic, she thought, was irrefutable. Quietly she put her things away, going out to the kitchen. She made herself a meal, more than enough for two, and went over to the dining room table. She ate silently, thinking over what had happened in the past week. Death eaters were bad enough, but time traveling ones?

(Absently she turned to glare at the writer, but then sighed heavily and went back to eating when she realized at least said word crafter didn't write it out in painful detail or post it for that matter).

"Where have you been?" Deadpool inquired, as he was serving himself his meal.

"Where haven't I been?" she put back to him. "The writer had me dealing with time traveling bad guys. Three of them. Which wasn't as bad as it could be, but her plot devices were a bit contrived and after a time it just didn't work so she abandoned it and so here I am again." She took a bite, chewed thoughtfully and said, "All in all, time wasted, but I have to say that it was interesting being thought of as a bit of a fem fetal even if the entire story was complete bollox."

"That sounds…boring."

"It was," she muttered. "But the one good thing I got out of it was a new bag for you." She pulled it out of her jacket pocket. Even as she held it out to him, it filled with Chimichangas.

"You're the best, sweet cheeks!" He took the bag from her, pulling out one and eating it. "Excellent!"

"Not that it's any of my business, but what have you been up to?"

"General craziness, talking to myself and all the voices in my head, killing for profit and general mayhem." He looked over to her. "You know, the usual."

A loud bang came from the hallway, making both of them look over in the same direction.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Sounded like a bomb," he told her. "Great things, bombs. They blow up and go boom! I love them."

"I bet," she murmured. "I'll attempt to get you C4 for Christmas."

He rushed over to her, putting his head on her shoulder and cried, "You're the bestest ever!"

"You're speaking to my tits, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah. I just noticed that you have a lovely pair of my favorite girl bits."

"Seeing as I'm a girl, yes I would have those bits. Though I must say many men I know don't speak to them."

"How else would they grow up to be a lovely pair of melons?" he declared.

"The usual way," she pointed out to him. "Genetics."

"Don't you listen to her," he cooed to her breasts. "You two are going to grow up to be big perky boobies, aren't you?!"

Rolling her eyes, she looked over to the door again when someone knocked on it. "Pardon me a moment. There's someone at the door."

Before she could get to the door, Deadpool grabbed her and pulled her out of the way just as the door blew in. He had her head completely covered, even as he was pulling out his katana and had the point at Domino's neck before the woman knew it.

"Whoa!" the woman yelled at him. "It's me!"

"I should kill you for that alone," he growled.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the blade away. "I have a job for you…"

"Excuse me," Hermione said, getting up and looking at her door that was now in little pieces littering her flat. "Is that makeup or what?"

"I was born this way," Domino said, sounding sour. "Got a problem with it?"

"No, but how you left my door all over my living room that I do." She whipped out her wand and hexed Domino.

Deadpool watched as the sharpshooter known for her luck was spitting up slugs.

He looked over to Hermione. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"I'm sure one of your voices will," she said casually.

"True," he sighed. "I love that I don't have to remind you of that."

"Hard to forget," she replied, looking over to Domino. "Ready to apologize?"

She nodded rapidly.

Hermione took the spell off.

"Sorry."

"It never pays to piss off a witch."

"I thought he was trying to avoid me by being over here. I didn't even know this place was for let."

"Did you even check?" Hermione demanded. "Wolverine knew I lived here. He even got breakfast." She looked over to Deadpool. "If I tried cooking now, someone would end up sick or dead."

"Just say no to cooking angry, sweet cheeks," he told her.

"I'm trying," she assured him, looking over to the other woman. "You were born looking like that? I think that's cool. It makes a statement, but you were still rude. Can you please leave?"

Domino rolled her eyes, muttering, "Shit. You're nearly as crazy as he is."

"No, I'm not," she replied. "I am a different flavor of crazy is all. P.T.S.D. does that." Hermione worried her lower lip. "Out of curiosity, are you by chance a mutant?"

"Yes," she said, now glaring at the witch.

"May I be so bold as to ask you what your gift is?"

Domino blinked at her in shock. "Gift?"

"Yes, mutations are a gift," Hermione answered honestly. "Like magic is to wizards and witches."

"Oh," she breathed. "I'm lucky, can shoot anything well, and skilled at hand to hand."

"Luck? That's a mutation?"

"Apparently," Domino answered.

"I could have used that a time or two," she murmured. "Deadpool…" She turned to see not only was the man gone, but he had taken her breakfast with him. "Apparently, he used our short conversation to leave."

"Yeah," Domino muttered. "He can be such a right bastard that way." She looked over to Hermione. "Sorry about your door, but Cable has been on a tear that Deadpool had to do this job for him. I better get going."

"I would wish you good luck in finding him, but would that be redundant if I wished so to you?"

Laughing she said, "I'll take it anyway."

No sooner was the woman out of the flat did Hermione fix her door and decide to go to bed. She drifted over to the bedroom and don't you know that the bed was missing. Looking at where it had been, she knew without a doubt that it had been her neighbor who had taken it.

"How the hell did he get it out of here without help or me seeing him?" Hermione muttered to herself and went about making herself another bed with bedclothes.

This, she thought, has been a strange two weeks. And something told her that it was only going to be getting odder as the month went.

**TBC…**

**And another chapter has come to its end. Thanks for reading and have yourself a lovely day.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are at the end of the story. I hope you liked it.**

**Please read and review.**

**…**

**Chapter Four**

Hermione was packing up her things, when she noticed that Deadpool was watching her. Smiling, she picked up a box and handed it over to him.

"Don't open it," she told him. "It's that C4 I told you I'd get you for Christmas. Unfortunately it's attached to a bomb. It had been outside of your door when I got home…"

"You're leaving?" he asked her.

She looked over to him and nodded. "Yeah, I'm being sent into the future and into space at that. Something about fireflies were mentioned. Don't ask me what that has to do with anything, I haven't a clue." She held the box out to him again. "It was yours. I neutralized the bomb and it takes opening it to make it go off. So give it as a gift!"

He pulled the box out of her hands and tossed it aside. "I'm going to miss you."

"You'll miss the chimichangas," she murmured. "And my girl bits."

"True," he sighed. "That I will."

She went over to him, going on tiptoe and kissed his cloth covered cheek. "Take care of yourself, Deadpool."

"That's what I do best," he said quietly.

She pulled out another three bags, handing them to him. "I know you already burned the other one."

"It made a pretty fire," he told her.

"I bet," she replied. "Enjoy the mattress you borrowed."

He nodded to this. "If you ever need someone killed or if you just feel the need to flash your tits at someone, call me."

Laughing, she told him, "I'll do that."

Finishing up her packing, she went on her way saying, "Anything I leave here in the apartment is yours, if you want it." She paused. "I bought you a girl magazine."

"Where?!" He went looking for it, as she went on her way down to the taxi.

He found the Girl Scout magazine along with a note telling him the real skin rag she had bought him was in the bathroom. Laughing he looked out the window and watched as she was driven away.

**The end!**

**…**

**There you go. The end of another wild and crazy ride. I hope that you liked it. Review, if possible. Thanks for reading and until next we meet, ****_bizi luze eta oparoa_**** (Basque).**


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